Mass Destruction
by Beautiful Secrets
Summary: I'm Your Angel  3 of 3 : A friend returns to Virginia in time for the BAU to get a new case; a child close to the heart of the BAU's boy genius is kidnapped; and a Cop Killer strikes the BAU near its core.
1. Never Fail to Surprise

The tires squealed against the asphalt as the car came to a stop. After a few seconds, the lights shut off, followed by the engine, before Morgan pushed open the door and climbed out. Rubbing his hand over his neck, he pushed the door shut, and made his way up to the front door. As he reached for the knob, he paused, and lifted his head, listening carefully. Inside the house, he heard Clooney bark, a sign he was safe to go in. With a smile on his face, he pushed the door open, and stepped in, locking it behind him as he made his way down the hallway. Morgan stopped abruptly before he passed the living room, and turned around, frowning at the jacket lying across the back of the sofa. He removed his gun from the holster still on his hip, and slowly made his way through the house, clearing each before moving on. Each cleared room brought a small knot to his stomach when he made note that he hadn't seen Clooney since entering the house.

As he arrived at his bedroom, the only room with a closed door, he took a breath, and reached down for the handle. He quietly and carefully turned the knob, but before he could whip the door open, he heard Clooney bark inside the room, followed by an out of place, but familiar female voice.

"Put the gun away, Derek, I'm just tryin' to sleep." He frowned, eyebrows knitted together, but pushed the door open slowly, dropping his hands to his sides when he saw inside.

"Damnit, Gayle, you scared the hell out of me," he said, holstering his weapon as he reached out and flicked the light switch on the wall. She lifted her head from the pillow, and smiled over at him. Gayle lay on the bed at an angle, so she could see the door with ease while petting Clooney, who was stretched out in front of her.

"Sorry. Eh, to be fair, I _did_ try to call you this afternoon – you didn't get my message?" Morgan, visibly confused, pulled out his phone and flipped it open, before sighing.

"Never came through, girl." He looked up, and placed his weapon and holster on the dresser behind the door. "What are you doing here…at two in the morning?" he asked, moving over to scratch Clooney behind the ears. She sat up, leaning her back against the headboard.

"I…decided I was too cut off from the people I knew. Not fully – I know I was able to call any time…but it's not the same, you know?" Morgan smiled, and sat down on the bed, shaking his head.

"So you decided to come back?"

"Good guess," she chuckled.

"Why my house, though? Why not Mel's? Or Reid's?" Morgan asked, moving as Clooney stood and hopped down off the bed. Gayle shrugged, pushing her foot against Morgan.

"Because…I knew you wouldn't mind coming home to find me in your bed. I knew that you would draw your gun, but you wouldn't shoot me. And…" He watched her give a sheepish look, before reaching into her bag on the nightstand. "…I didn't stealthily lift and copy _their_ house key last time I saw them," she added, holding up a shiny silver copy of the key on his chain. Morgan raised an eyebrow, before smirking and shaking his head.

"You never fail to surprise me," he said, climbing off the bed and moving for the dresser. "But you know I _might_ have shot you if you didn't speak up first," he added, glancing at her as he kicked off his shoes.

"Nah…I think the Clooney factor would have stopped you from firing that weapon," Gayle replied, her voice sounding confident as she scooted down on the bed, and sat upright in the middle of the mattress.

Morgan shook his head, chuckling, as he grabbed a pair of slacks and headed out of the room. She chuckled, running her fingers through her hair, before crossing her legs and clamping her hands around her ankles. Clooney's head poked around the doorframe, and he trotted in, dropping with a sigh at the foot of the bed. Giggling, Gayle tucked her feet beneath her, and slid down to look over the end of the bed, tilting her head as she peered over at Clooney.

"You are so tired, aren't ya, buddy?" she asked, lightly dragging her fingernails across Clooney's side. He took a deep breath under her hand, and shifted slightly, but didn't lift his head.

"Considering someone broke in, I'm sure he's exhausted," Morgan replied from the doorway. Gayle turned her head, and smiled as he walked in, no longer dressed like he had been, but now in just a pair of lounge pants.

"I didn't break in, I happened to have a key."

"That you stole from me."

"Borrowed."

"You know you can't win, right?" Morgan smirked, crossing the room and leaning down to scratch Clooney behind the ear as he rounded the bed. Gayle pushed herself up onto her knees, and glanced at him, chuckling.

"You know you just changed the subject because you didn't want to find out that I _could_, right?" she teased, turning slightly before sitting back on the bed. Morgan looked at her, his blanket in hand, and sniggered, climbing onto the mattress beside her.

"You know we're ending this conversation now, right?" he said, poking her shoulder gently as he sat next to her. Gayle shook her head, but nodded, smirking. She watched him lie back on the bed, before laying back, herself, and rolling onto her side, propping her head up on her hand.

"It is okay that I'm here, right? I mean…you're not angry, are you?" she asked, and as Morgan turned his head to see her, he saw the look on her face change from one of play, to one of concern and uncertainty.

"Of course it is. I've told you that you're always welcome here, I'm not gonna change my mind now," he replied, putting his hand on her cheek. She smiled, leaning against his hand, as she looked down at him. As the moment passed, and neither of them spoke, Gayle leaned down slowly, moving her hand down against the mattress. With her lips near his, their eyes closing, Gayle's heartbeat grew faster, and thumped in her ears, but just as she began to feel his breath on her lips, his phone began to ring from its place on the dresser.

She sighed, opening her eyes as she sat up. Morgan, pursing his lips to bite back the stream of swears he felt coming, climbed off the bed, and moved over.

"Morgan…hey Hotch…" Gayle thumped her head onto the pillow.

"Damnit." He turned around to see her, smirking.

"Yeah…Yeah, I got it, Hotch, I'll be there soon," Morgan said, shutting the phone.

"I…am guessin' you have to go back in?" He sighed, but nodded, moving back out the door. She groaned softly, shaking her head, before rolling onto her other side to watch the door. After a moment, he walked back in, dressed in the clothes he'd arrived in.

"Just get some sleep, alright? I'll see you tomorrow," Morgan smiled, crossing the room to pull on his shoes. Gayle sat up, and, once he sat up again, too, she hooked her arms around his shoulders.

"Just be safe."

"I'm not starting another one of these with ya," he answered, smirking, and shaking his head as he put his hands around her waist. He stood, and leaned down, placing a light kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Gayle," he said, patting her cheek before grabbing his phone and his gun, and heading back out the door. She sighed, and dropped back on the bed, curling up beneath the blanket as the sound of his car disappeared down the road.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

Exiting the elevator, Morgan made his way through the bullpen, pausing at his chair to drop his jacket across the back of it.

"Hey, Prentiss…any idea what's goin' on?" he asked. She turned her head as she pressed her finger into the Power button on the monitor, and shrugged her shoulders.

"I have no idea. Hotch just said to wait for you and then to meet in the conference room. Did he say anything to you?" she asked, pushing her dark hair off her shoulder and following him up the steps.

"Just that JJ had something for us, and to come in," he answered, shaking his head. Morgan slowed his step, moving aside for Prentiss to enter the room first, before following, and taking a seat at the table.

"I know you guys only left a little while ago, but this came across my desk right before I called you," Hotch said, entering the room and nodding to JJ. She turned, and picked up the remote, pressing one of the buttons with her thumb.

"Annapolis PD responded to a call two days ago of a disturbance around one a.m. at a local motel. When they arrived at the scene, they found this," she said, as a picture came on the screen. The team turned their attention to the plasma behind JJ, where a picture of a crime scene was displayed. It was a motel room, a man lying on his back across the foot of the bed, clad only in boxer shorts, with a wound in his stomach, and his neck slashed. "His name is Robert Mowden, aged twenty-five. He was in Annapolis visiting his brother, and according to the brother, they were bar hopping together. According to the surveillance at the bar, the two left the bar just after midnight. His brother David said that Robert picked up a girl on their way to another bar, and the two of them went into a club together."

"Were there any witnesses?" Morgan asked, eyebrow raised.

"ATM video camera caught a shot of David around one, when the disturbance call came in…he was alone," JJ said, moving her hand and laying the file on the tables.

"Is this the first such murder?" Prentiss asked, flipping open the file and glancing up.

"…they've had three in as many weeks…" JJ answered, shaking her head. Hotch sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, before glancing around the table.

"Get your bags, we move in thirty," Hotch ordered, making his way out of the room. Morgan reached out his hand, taking the file from JJ, and leaned back, flipping through it for a moment.

"Anything peak your interest?" Prentiss asked, standing and pushing her chair in as she waited for him to stand, too. Shaking his head, Morgan continued to flip through the documents, and simply shook his head again.

"Only that it's either a woman…or a man who likes lipstick," he said, handing over the file. Prentiss, eyebrow raised, glanced down at the photographs spread across the open file, one from each scene, showing a prominent maroon kiss on the bedspread near each body.


	2. Boys Night Out

Morgan snapped his phone shut, and opened the passenger door, climbing into the SUV before pulling the door shut. Lifting his head, he saw Reid looking up at him via the mirror. Morgan frowned, and looked around, to see the others in the SUV were looking at him, as well.

"What?"

"Nothing," Reid replied, shaking his head and looking back down. JJ smiled softly, before pressing a button on her phone, and turning it to face the team.

"Hey, Garcia…You're up." Garcia nodded from her place at her computer.

"Alright, Victim Number One is Gerald Kather. He was thirty-one years old, and throwing a bachelor party for his best friend. His wife called him in missing when he didn't show up to the ceremony the next morning," Garcia said, as JJ passed the photograph around the car.

"Did the police question the party, or his wife?" Rossi asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Yep, and yep. The groom-to-be was Keith Grant, who had been Gerald's best friend since 'forever', as he put it. The two of them and a few of their college buddies went out for drinks the night before the wedding, to celebrate Keith's last night of being single, but they all said Gerald left the bar around one with a woman – and said that he was incredibly drunk. Gerald's wife, Marie, doesn't believe he would have left with another woman – the two had been married for five years, and were together for four years before that, and he had never been unfaithful. She's convinced they know more than they're letting on, but all of the guys have passed questioning and lie detector tests, so they aren't considered suspects," Garcia explained, shaking her head as her fingers tapped against the keyboard. "The wife took a DNA test, and a lie detector test, and passed with flying col-"

"DNA test?" Hotch interrupted. Garcia paused, and glanced away from her monitors.

"The report mentioned 'bodily fluids' in the room," she said, emphasizing the words with air quotes before she continued typing. "She was ruled out as being a suspect when her DNA didn't match…Plus…the officers questioned the staff at the hotel when Gerald checked in. No one recognized his wife – she's a blonde, and said the woman that came in with Gerald was brunette…but no one saw her face."

"Smart woman," Morgan said, flipping through the file.

"Very. Alright. Victim Number Two was Daniel Parick. He was twenty-eight, and engaged to his girlfriend of three years. He had a reputation with his friends of being a ladies' man – always flirting, capable of picking up a girl without really trying…you know…kind of like Morgan when his game's on." Morgan smirked, and shook his head, rolling his hand.

"Don't make me come back there, Garcia," he playfully threatened. She smirked, and waggled her eyebrows slightly –mostly for herself– but cleared her throat, and looked back at the screen.

"Daniel was having a poker night with the guys at the house of one of his friends, Christian Mallory. Daniel left the game, and the house, alone around one in the morning. Since he was only a few blocks, he walked instead of taking his car. Around three, when he still hadn't arrived home, Daniel's fiancé Katie called the guys to find out how much longer the game was going to be. When she found out Daniel had left two hours earlier, she called the police. The following morning, police got a call that Daniel's body had been found in a local motel. He was posed the same as Gerald had been, and not one person could describe the face of the woman with him – only that she was brunette."

"Any proof it wasn't his fiancé?" Rossi asked, tilting his head as he flipped through the file.

"Saying she was brunette is enough. Daniel's fiancé is a redhead," Prentiss said, holding up the photograph in her hands of Daniel and Katie. Hotch glanced as he stopped at the light, and looked at the photo, before nodding.

"Victim Number Three. JJ gave us the rundown on Robert Mowden this morning, but just for a recap. He was twenty-five, and out with his brother, bar hopping. Now, his brother told us that Robert took off with a woman, but what he didn't say was that Robert was supposed to get married next week. His fiancé is a brunette, but it's a different shade than what the other woman is said to have – his fiancé is auburn. The mystery woman is more chestnut." The guys in the vehicle gave a slight smirk, and shook their heads, but didn't say a word.

"Anything else?" Hotch asked, glancing over his shoulder before turning the car down another road.

"Uhmmm…Nope. Nope, this is it, but as always, I'll let you know," Garcia replied, hanging up the phone.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

Gayle looked out the window as she approached the house, and took a deep breath before pulling up along the curb. Sighing softly, she turned off the engine, and climbed out. The house was smaller than the last one, and had a privacy fence around the backyard – which didn't surprise her any. Locking the car behind her and pocketing the keys, she stepped onto the sidewalk, and scooted up the steps, knocking carefully. She heard giggling inside, and some rustling, before the lock clacked and the door opened.

"…Gayle?"

"Hey, Mel," she said, smiling sheepishly. Mel reached out, and pulled Gayle inside, shutting and locking the door behind her before giggling and hugging her tightly.

"Hi! Oh my God! When did you get back?" she asked, finally releasing the embrace as Gayle laughed.

"Last night…I crashed at a friend's house for the night, and then thought I'd come see you today," she answered, looking around the corner to see Bash sitting on the floor, hands against the carpet, eyes fixed on the TV. Turning her head, she raised an eyebrow to see the curious look on Melody's face. "…What?"

"A friend? Don't you mean a hunk-a-hunk-a burnin' loooove?" she teased, grinning and giggling. Gayle's face turned a bright pink, and she pushed Melody slightly, laughing.

"No! I stayed at a _friend's_ house, and yes, that friend just _happened_ to be Morgan. But there is no 'burning love' or 'hunk-a-hunk-a' going on, you crazy fiend. Speaking of burning love, though, last I heard, you and Reid were a cute little thing," she smirked, peaking her eyebrow in curiosity. Melody blushed, and shrugged, moving into the living room without answering.

"Hey, baby? Aunt Gayle is here," she said, which prompted Bash to turn, wide-eyed, and smile shyly as he pushed himself to his feet and moved to hug her. Gayle giggled, and scooped him up, hugging him close.

"Hey, buddy…I missed you," she said, kissing his cheek. After a moment, she put him back on the floor, watching him scoot off to plop back in front of the television.

"…He does talk some…he's just preoccupied," Melody promised, chuckling softly.

"I believe that. So…want to catch up in here, or in the kitchen?" she asked, motioning between the living room and the hallway. Melody, smiling, took her by the hand, and led her towards the kitchen.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

Rossi pulled the door open, and held it as the rest of the team passed him on their way into the police station. He followed directly behind them, hearing the door flop shut as they rounded the corner, and filed into a meeting room.

"Anything new since you called?" Hotch asked, glancing over at the Sherriff, who closed the door behind Rossi.

"Nothing. Not yet anyways – I don't imagine it will be too long before they strike again," he said, shaking his head. Hotch nodded, and moved around the table, opening up one of the boxes that had been placed in the middle. "That's everything we've got so far on what's happening – evidence, notes, pictures. If you need anything, just ask," he said, before exiting the room, and moving to speak to another officer. Hotch passed around some of the contents of the box, glancing at the team.

"Let's get started, see what we can figure out about our unsub," he said, pulling out a small stack of photographs from each crime scene.


	3. Ferocious

As most of the team perused the photographs and the evidence, Reid sat near the board, marker in hand, scanning documents and jotting down small notes for the team to see.

"This lipstick mark, near each of the bodies…it just seems like a man wouldn't do this…" Prentiss said, flipping the pictures over to show them.

"Wouldn't what? Kiss the bed sheets, or put on lipstick?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Put on the lipstick _then_ kiss the sheets…I think we're only looking for one person, the woman that was seen with each of the guys. Seems like a ridiculous thing for a man to do, or to let her do, you know what I mean?" she asked, shrugging.

"You might be right," Hotch said, nodding, as Reid put a finger into the air as he finished scanning the paper in his hand.

"We should go talk to the first two hotel managers…they both have surveillance cameras up, but there aren't any tapes in the box," Reid said, holding out the paper in his hand for Rossi to take. He skimmed it, too, and handed it to Hotch, who glanced down, and nodded.

"Good idea. Morgan, why don't you and Prentiss go to the hotels, get the surveillance footage so we can look at it here," Hotch prompted, looking across the table. With a nod, the two stood, and headed out of the station, leaving the rest of the team to scan the evidence.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

Morgan turned at the intersection, glancing at Prentiss.

"I think you're right, about it just being a woman…" he said, turning his attention back to the road as he stopped at the next light.

"I think I am too…it would make sense. Each man was seen with a brunette before he was killed, and each man was cheating on his fiancé or his wife – who would be more angered by that than a woman?" Morgan smirked.

"Especially a woman who knows what it's like to be on the other end," he added, switching hands on the wheel as he answered his ringing phone. "Morgan…alright, got it Hotch, we're on the way," he said, shutting his phone, glancing around, and making a U-turn in the middle of the road. Prentiss gripped the handle over her head, and looked over.

"What happened?"

"Another call came in, this time it was at a residence – Hotch is sending us that way," he said, pressing his foot into the gas as he turned on the lights.

Prentiss approached the door with Morgan, and raised her hand to knock, but lowered it when the door opened first.

"Mrs. Caldwell?" she asked, tilting her head. The pale young woman inside the door sniffled, running her hand over her bloodshot eyes, and stepped back. "I'm Emily…can we talk?" she asked, reaching for her hand, and leading her away from the house. The other officers, who had arrived first, were already inside the living room, and Morgan stepped away from the women, heading inside.

"Agent Morgan," one officer called from the steps. He glanced over, and headed up, as the officer led him down the hall, and pushed open the door. Inside the room lay a young man, just like the others, and as Morgan stepped closer, he saw the lipstick print on the sheets. Sighing, he pulled out his phone, and called Hotch.

"It's the same, Hotch…splayed at the end of the bed, just in his underwear, stab wound, slit throat, kiss on the sheet." Hotch sighed.

"Where's Prentiss?"

"Outside, with the wife…" he replied, exiting the bedroom to let the officers back in. "Make sure you get pictures of everything, and bag everything to get back to the station," he said to them, moving the phone from his ear before he headed down the steps and outside to check on Prentiss.

"Come back when you're finished," Hotch said, hanging up with Morgan.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

Morgan pulled back up in his driveway, and sighed, running a hand down his face as he shut the car off. After a minute, he grabbed the keys, and climbed out, locking it behind him on his way up to the front door. He could see the light on in the living room, and once he reached the door, he found it unlocked. Not wanting to disturb Gayle if she'd fallen asleep, he quietly opened the door, stepping in and locking it up behind him as he made his way to the bedroom.

"…Derek?" He stopped mid-step, and turned, looking into the living room, when he heard Gayle's shaken voice.

"Everything okay?" he asked, tossing his keys to the table and moving into the room. Gayle sat on the couch seat, closest to the doorway, and next to her stood a local officer, his hat in his hands.

"…yeah…it is now…" A frown formed on his lips, and he stepped in, putting his hand down for hers, before looking up at the officer.

"What happened?" Gayle gulped softly, and rubbed her neck.

"After you left last night, I did get some sleep…today I went to see Mel and Bash, and all that. When I got back, I climbed into the shower…I got out and found someone rifling through the bedroom. At first, I only heard noise, and I thought it was you, but then I heard Clooney outside, and he sounded _pissed_, so I called the cops on my cell phone, and tried to sneak my gun out of my bag in the closet…but by then he realized the water was off, and came out to find me, and…eh…" she trailed off, glancing up at the officer.

"She shot him…" the officer said, pulling his hat back on. Morgan looked down, and sighed, extending a hand to the officer.

"Thank you, Officer…Martin. You don't have to stay." Martin nodded, and looked down at Gayle.

"Just come by in the morning, you can file a report against him," he said, giving her hand a light shake before heading out and climbing into the darkened cop car parked a couple houses down.

Morgan took a seat on the couch beside her, and pulled her over towards him, hooking his arm around her shoulders. As he kissed the top of her head, she sighed, and closed her eyes.

"Shoot to kill, or shoot to stop?" he asked. Gayle shook her head, and shrugged.

"I wanted him to stop…The cops showed up a few minutes later, and took him away…uh…it made a big mess on your hall rug, so…I took it outside, and at least hosed it off so it didn't dry in," she said, looking up at him. "…Sorry, Derek…" He laughed softly.

"You get accosted by a thief in my home, and you apologize for the mess _he_ wound up making on the rug? I promise, it _is_ okay. If I didn't have another choice, I'd have done the same thing," he assured her, smiling and giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"I feel the need to apologize…only because I don't know how he got in, and I don't know how I didn't know someone was inside…" she said, running her hand down her face. "I shot him because he had a knife in his hands, and a look of anger in his eyes that I've only seen once before," she said softly, closing her eyes again and putting her head on his shoulder. Morgan pulled her into an embrace, and kissed the top of her head, sighing.

"Don't worry about it. If you didn't know he was here, either he was already here and lying in wait, or he came in while you had your head underwater. He was trying to be ninja," he smirked, as she chuckled softly. Patting his knee, Gayle leaned up and kissed his cheek, standing and moving down the hall. Morgan heard the bedroom door open, and within a moment, Clooney was skidding into the living room, and leaping onto the couch, nudging his head against Morgan's. A laugh passed his lips, and he scratched Clooney's ears, looking at Gayle.

"When I let him in, he ran for the front door, leapt up, and growled until the cop took the guy away," she smiled, moving back towards the couch.

"Yeah? Well…he's ferocious like that, don't you know? He can mutilate anything…that tastes like bacon," he snickered, as he glanced up at Gayle. With a laugh, she dropped down onto the arm of the couch, and reached over, scratching Clooney's head gently.


	4. Quick Wrap, and a Box of Memories

The phone began to ring on the nightstand. Reid shifted, grumbling softly, as he rolled over and buried his face further into the pillow. As the phone continued to ring, Mel, who lay beside him, finally yawned, and pushed his hip.

"Answer that...please..." she murmured, snuggling up against him. He stretched, grumbling, but swung an arm over, and pulling the phone off the nightstand.

"What?" he asked, stretching and pressing his lips against the back of Mel's head. She smiled, snuggling up under the blanket, and opened her eyes.

"Reid, it's Prentiss – Hotch wants us back in." He sighed, but nodded, moving his hand to run through his hair.

"Yeah...I'll be in shortly..." Reid closed his phone, and laid an arm over Mel in a partial embrace.

"I'll see you later, Spencer," she murmured, lifting her head to hug him, and kiss his cheek.

"Promise...just get some sleep, okay?" he asked, smiling and turning to kiss her before climbing out from under the covers. Mel watched him pull on his jeans and T-shirt, before lowering her head into the pillow.

"Be safe, Spence...please?" she asked softly. He paused, one foot in his shoe, the other just over it, before smiling, pulling on both shoes, and sitting back on the bed.

"I'm always safe – I can talk my way out of anything," he answered, kissing her forehead, grabbing his things, and heading out the door.

Morgan listened as his phone buzzed on the dresser, but simply sighed, and shook his head. He slung his arm across Gayle's bare waist, and shut his eyes, letting the buzzing fade away. As he began to drift off again, her gentle fingers brushed his, and she tilted her head.

"Derek...you should go," she whispered, not opening her eyes. He sighed, but climbed out of bed, moving to get his phone. She listened to him talk for a moment, before he moved to get dressed. Gayle rolled onto her back, and looked at him in the darkness of the room, before smiling sleepily.

"Clooney will keep ya company...I gotta go in..." He glanced over at her, and smiled, before lowering himself to the end of the bed and pulling on his boots. After a small stretch, Gayle sat up, tugging the blanket up around her, and scooted down the bed to put her head on his shoulder.

"I should be here when you come back," she said softly, waiting till he'd looked over before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. He smiled, and returned the kiss, moving his fingers up to push her hair behind her ear. After a second, he pulled back, and nudged her nose.

"Control yourself, or I'm gonna be late," Morgan chuckled, smiling before standing. She laughed very lightly, and laid back on the bed, watching him get his things. "I'll see you later, gorgeous," he said, smiling over at her, before walking out. As the front door closed behind him, Clooney trotted in, and hopped up onto the bed beside Gayle, flopping into Morgan's place, and falling asleep quickly.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

The team looked up at Hotch pinned a new picture up to the corkboard.

"New victim last night...our unsub is moving up their time span. The first three murders occurred a week apart...but the fourth was three days ago, and the fifth last night. Victor Berg, twenty-five. He was out with a friend at a bar. His friend said Victor left with a girl around eleven, he was found dead two hours later. Victor has a girlfriend, but that wasn't who he left the bar with – his friend said he'd never seen her, but the bar has cameras on the doors, and they are getting the footage to Garcia as we speak," he explained, looking around at the team.

Rossi ran a hand over his face, and shook his head, as the cell on Morgan's hip began to ring. He lifted it, and flipped it open, pressing the Speaker button.

"You're on speaker, babygirl."

"So I ran through the footage sent over from the bar, and around eleven fifteen last night, I managed to pinpoint Berg coming out with a woman under his arm...she keeps her face away from the camera, so I decided to back it up, to try and find out when she went in. Around eight thirty last night, the camera got a full shot of her face walking into the bar...she walked in about ten minutes after Berg and his friend," she said, hitting a few keys.

"Excellent job, Garcia," Hotch spoke from across the room.

"And not only is the picture is on its way to you guys, I am also running it to see if there's a match," she added, with a smirk, and a cock of her head.

"You're a gift, Garcia," Morgan replied, with a half grin.

"Awww, aren't you just so perceptive? Call me if you need more," she said with a giggle, a smirk, and a cock of her head, before hitting a button on her phone to hang up, and going back to work.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

Gayle glanced over from her place on the sofa as the door opened, and Clooney trotted towards the hallway.

"I'm back," Morgan called as he closed the door. Looking down at her watch, Gayle chuckled, and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm going to guess that this was an easy end for this case?" He smiled, and glanced through the window to peer outside as the sun began to set, before scratching Clooney behind the ears.

"She made a mistake and went somewhere with a camera...bartender always asks for ID, so he was able to name her. She was sitting home when we got there – well...not really sitting, more, getting ready to go out," he said, putting his gun on the table by the door before moving towards the kitchen.

"Did she say why she did it?"

"She started to deny it, but when we confronted her with our knowledge of her with the last victim, she cracked...Prentiss and Rossi took her back to talk to her...apparently, she has a thing against cheaters," he replied, exiting the kitchen with two water bottles, and stepping into the living room.

Gayle sat on the couch, a few pictures in her hands, and a brown paper-wrapped box upon the table. She looked up from the photos in her hands, and smiled a little.

"Who doesn't? So it finished rather easily, in comparison?" she asked, moving a little and patting the couch beside her. He smiled, but sat beside her, setting the water on the table.

"In comparison, yeah...what's all this?" Morgan asked, motioning. Gayle glanced over, and blushed, shrugging.

"My mom sent me a box of photos, and documents, my diplomas...stuff to help me remember. It's doing good...I _like_ these memories. I mean...look...my first day of school," she started, handing him a photo, "my...first day of high school...my first car...Oh, that was a beautiful car," she laughed, holding up a photograph of a younger her standing in front of a Corvette.

"Oh...Be still my heart, that _is_ a beautiful car." She giggled, looking up at him, before blushing.

"My graduation from high school...my first apartment..." She paused, and frowned, holding up a photograph of her and her ex-husband, at their wedding. Morgan looked up from the picture of her and her car, and frowned, gently reaching out and taking the picture from her.

"We can get rid of these, Gayle...if ya want...at least the ones with him in them." She hesitated, before looking up at him, and sighing softly.

"Yeah...No...I don't know...I'll have to think about that," she said, tossing the photo back in the box, and piling things on top of it. Morgan put an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her into a hug, smiling.

The two sat on the couch, Gayle curled up against him, Clooney stretched out on the floor, watching something more pleasant than the news. Neither of them spoke much, but Gayle shifted a little in his arms, nestling her head against his chest.

"Have I told you lately that you're a wonderful man, Derek Morgan?" she asked softly. He chuckled, rolling his eyes, as he moved to kiss the top of her head.

"Not lately, but I think I've said before that you don't have to keep flattering me. Part of that 'wonderful' is my job, remember?" She bit down on her lip, and looked towards the floor, but didn't lift her head as she nodded.

"Yeah...yeah, right...I know..." There was a second of silence, before Gayle moved from his arms, and headed for the kitchen. Morgan watched her go, frowning, but as he opened his mouth, she spoke instead. "I'm pretty tired, so...I'm going to go lay down...okay?"

"Uh, yeah, that's fine...you okay?" he asked, pushing himself off the couch to stand in the doorway and see her. Gayle stopped near the bedroom, and tilted her head. Morgan watched how she stood in the hall, one hand on the door frame, her head bowed down – she was avoiding looking back at him, but wasn't looking straight ahead.

"I'm fine, Morgan..."

"Ah. No you're not. You're avoiding lookin' at me, and you just called me Morgan – you haven't called me _Morgan_ since...well, I don't think you've called me that since you met me, really," he said, shaking his head as he moved down the hall.

"I am _fine_. I just want to lie down."

"Gayle, c'mon, talk to me...I thought things were fine, we were just curled up on the couch relaxing..." She stopped one step into the bedroom, and turned around, finally looking up. He saw the hesitation on her face, but she averted her eyes again, glancing behind her.

"I don't want to talk about anything. There's nothing _to_ talk about – I just want to lie down," she repeated, raising an eyebrow. He frowned, but stopped, and nodded.

"We can talk tomorrow...but you will have to talk to me at some point, you know that."

"Sometimes I hate that you're a profiler," she muttered, shaking her head as she turned her back again, and walked into the bedroom without another word.


	5. He's Gone

The ringing from the living room woke Gayle, and she carefully sat up, glancing around the room. She was alone in the bed, with the door partially closed, and Morgan's side of the bed undisturbed. Frowning, she pushed the blanket away, and lowered her feet to the cold wooden floor before making her way down the hall. She stopped when she saw Morgan sit up on the couch, and put his phone to his ear.

"Morgan...yeah…damn it...alright, I'll be there soon," he said, snapping his phone shut and tossing it onto the table again before stretching and rubbing his head.

"...Derek?" He turned, looking over the back of the couch at Gayle, before giving a very small smile.

"Hey...did I wake ya?" he asked, climbing off the couch. She frowned a little when she saw that there was a blanket and pillow on the couch, and his clothes were messed up, as if he'd slept on the sofa that night.

"No...why did you sleep on the couch? It's your house, you could have taken the bed." He shrugged, and walked around her towards the bedroom, patting her arm as he passed.

"You seemed angry, I figured I'd let ya sleep." She ran her hand over her neck, and turned around, following him back to the bedroom.

"I wasn't angry – I was tired. And I'm sorry..." Morgan tugged his clothes off, tossing them onto the end of the bed before pulling a new pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the closet.

Gayle waited until he had pulled his jeans over his hips before she stepped over, and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Are we okay?" She frowned, though, when Morgan pulled back to tug on his shirt before looking up at her, and nodding.

"We're fine...I gotta head in, finish reports, so I have to go, but I'll talk to you later, alright?" he asked, exiting the room without looking back at her. Gayle bit down upon her bottom lip, and stepped out of the room.

"Sure...be careful." He tugged on his shoes, and after grabbing his credentials, badge, and phone, he lifted his keys off the table, and cast a glance over his shoulder.

"Always."

_**PAGE BREAK**_

Mel nudged the fridge door closed, and looked over at her best friend with a frown on her lips.

"Come on, Gayle...I think you're over-thinking all of this..." she spoke, setting a glass on the table, and pouring in some juice. Gayle's fingers pushed against the base of her own glass, sliding it around a little, as she sighed, and shrugged.

"Maybe...I don't know, something doesn't feel right. I think I may have made a mistake by coming back and staying with him," she admitted sheepishly, glancing up. There was an apologetic look on Mel's face as she laid her hand over Gayle's, and sat in her chair.

"You know that you are always welcome here. Reid doesn't stay often – it's usually dinner and a movie, and then he goes home. But you can always join us."

"...thanks, Mel...how is Reid?"

"He's...wonderful. With everything. And Bash? Bash _adores_ him." The surprise at that statement was evident on Gayle's face as Bash shuffled into the room and lifted the small glass of juice off the table.

"...thank 'ou," he said softly, looking up at Mel with a shy smile, before he leaned his head against her arm, and left the room.

"Bash adores him?"

"And he adores Bash...I've never seen anyone do so well around him," Mel admitted, and Gayle could see the sweet, dreamy look on her best friend's face when she spoke.

"I think you two were destined to be together, if you ask me." The color filled Mel's cheeks as she chuckled, and put the juice back into the fridge.

"Oh, come on...really?" Gayle snorted softly, but nodded.

"Really – I've _never_ seen you so happy with someone who wasn't your little boy."

When Mel turned from the fridge, she saw Gayle biting her lip, and looking down at her own hands, and the wedding ring that still glinted on her left hand. Mel reached over and laid her hands on top of Gayle's, smiling softly as she blocked sight of the silver band.

"If you and Morgan were meant for each other, Gayle, you'll know. I do have one question, though..."

"Hm?"

"Why, on Earth, do you still wear your wedding ring?" she asked, moving her fingers, and tapping her nail against it. Gayle blushed, and shook her head, sighing.

"I...I wear it to remind me of what's happened," she admitted, her voice low. Mel scooted over, and pulled her best friend into an embrace, no longer needing to question.

_**PAGE BREAK**_

The front door opened, and closed, as Morgan stepped inside. He heard the television in the other room, and lowered his head, sighing softly. Carefully, he unclipped his weapon, and laid it on the table near the door, checking back to be sure he'd locked the door. Clooney poked his head around the doorway, nose twitching as his droopy eyes caught sight of Morgan.

"Hey, buddy...you have a good day?" he asked, his voice low, as he scratched Clooney behind the ears. Clooney closed his eyes, his tongue dangling out the side of his mouth, as he moaned and leaned his head into Morgan's hands. This action brought smile to Morgan's lips as he kissed the top of his head, and patted his back, before kicking off his boots and moving for the living room.

Gayle was seated at the far end of the couch, a newspaper in her hands, when he stepped in. Her eyes darted to the side, but she didn't move her head. Instead, she bit her lip, and lowered her head slightly, refocusing her eyes on the print in her hands. Morgan, sighing, stepped in, and lowered his body onto the couch near her.

"How was your day?" she asked, before he could. He raised an eyebrow, and glanced over, smiling lightly.

"It was there...we have a new case," he said, shaking his head. Gayle folded the paper in her hands, and tossed it onto the coffee table, glancing over.

"I thought as much..." she said, motioning to it. Morgan turned his attention, and sighed. Displayed prominently on the front page was the headline COP KILLER. "Cops and their families?" she asked, frowning.

"Not quite...cops and their partners – wives, girlfriends. Always a male cop," he added, sighing. Gayle was quiet for a moment, before she reached over for his hand.

"I don't like it, Derek."

"You think I do?" he asked, lifting his hands to run over the top of his head. "Someone is kidnapping cops and their partners, keeping them for two days, and dumping them off miles from home." She moved slightly, turning her body to face him, but dropping her hands back into her lap.

"Not what I meant...technically, you guys could be called 'cops'. And if this guy gets word of you working with the locals, he might come after any one of you," she said, her eyebrows knitted together, and the concern evident upon her face.

"Gayle...he's not gonna come after us..."

"How do you know that, though? What if he does? What if he goes after Reid? And Mel? Bash wouldn't be able to live without his mother – she is his whole life." Morgan frowned, and shook his head.

"They will be fine, alright? No one's gonna get at her, or Reid..." He looked at her for a second, before glancing towards the paper. "Or you, or me," he added as an afterthought. Color filled her cheeks, and she tilted her head in slight uncertainty.

"What?" Morgan reached out, and poked his finger into the headline.

"Mel and Bash aren't the only concerns you have with this guy. You're worried he'll come after _us_, Gayle – aren't you?" The hesitation was prominent as she attempted to shrug, and he sighed softly. Her eyes lifted as she looked at him.

"What? What's wrong with that?" she asked, frowning and nibbling lightly at her lip. Shaking his head, Morgan rubbed his eyes, and picked up the paper.

"There's nothin' wrong with it, Gayle, but there isn't really an _us_, is there?" The moment the words left his mouth, Gayle felt her heart begin to sink to her stomach. He saw the confusion, and leaned forward. "I mean...think about it...what would give anyone the impression that there was an _us_? As far as anyone knows, we're just friends." The words pricked her skin like a needle, and her heart dropped, her stomach twisted.

Gayle dug her fingers into the arm of the sofa as she pushed herself up, and started out of the room. It was obvious to Morgan that he hadn't chosen the right words the second he said them, and she looked away, so he stood, and followed her.

"Gayle..."

"So...that's what you think, Derek? We're just friends? Because after the other night, I really didn't think that," she admitted, disappearing into the bedroom.

"That isn't what I meant."

"Then what, Derek? What did you mean? You know, that really sounded like it _is_ what you meant, and I'm sorry that I'm reacting this way, but can you blame me?" she asked, looking up from the bag she'd tossed onto the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, surprised, as he stepped into the room behind her.

"I'm packing...I'm going to go stay somewhere else."

"Don't do this," Morgan asked, moving over and grabbing the bag. She whipped out her hands, slapping his arm with one and taking the bag back with the other. Both of them paused when she hit him, and she darted her eyes away, blushing as she took the bag, and shoved some of her clothes inside. "Gayle, please, can we ta-" His voice was cut off by the ringing of the phone on his hip, and they both cringed, and groaned.

"Go to work, Derek." Her voice was low, but oddly calm, and he sighed.

"...Morgan...Yeah...what's u-...oh no...where are they? ...We're on our way," he said, snapping his phone shut.

"We?" she asked, eyebrow raised as she looked up from stuffing one of her shirts into the bag.

"...Bash has been kidnapped."


	6. I want to smash your face in

The doors opened, shoved back by Gayle's hands, as she darted around a few agents, and wrapped her arms around the shaking and sobbing Mel. Reid was pacing a few steps away, shaking his head, as Morgan approached.

"What happened, man?"

"We went out, we were going to get dinner. There was a street vendor, selling balloons, and making balloon animals...Bash wanted one, so we stopped on the way back, and while the vendor was making a balloon dog, Bash just..."

"Someone _stole my son_!" Mel's screeching, broken voice pierced through the entire floor, causing everyone to stop and look over. Gayle pulled her best friend against her, squeezing her eyes shut.

"We'll find him, Mel...Bashy will be just fine, I promise...just breathe," she murmured gently, pressing her lips together.

JJ opened the door to the conference room, motioning for the team. Hotch stepped out of his office, and started around the corner, as Morgan hooked an arm around Reid's shoulders and led him away. As they entered the room and took a seat, Hotch closed the door, and sighed.

"Reid, I think you're quick reaction is going to save Bash's life," he assured him, patting his shoulder. "As soon as you called, we plugged every media outlet – the news, the radio, the papers – with his picture, and a description of what he was wearing. We already had a few calls in with tips..."

"Please, please tell me someone saw him," Reid begged, and the team looked at each other. No one had heard Reid's voice so shaken and so broken since he'd been taken hostage, while Gideon was still with the team.

"A couple of people...and one of them gave a decent description of the man that took him," JJ said, nodding, before pressing a button and bringing up the sketch on the screen. Reid shook his head, turning to peer out at Gayle and Mel through the window.

"We have this sketch, and his description, at all the media outlets, too, so everyone can see him."

"Guys...I've seen him before..." Reid said, looking up at Hotch.

"What? Where?"

"...he was the balloon vendor before we had dinner...there was someone else there after we ate," Reid said, shaking his head. Hotch looked over at Prentiss, before he moved around the table.

"What was the name on the cart?" Reid shook his head, and twitched his nose a little before looking back up.

"Balloon Crafts for Kids," he answered, shrugging. "I see them there all the time – always at the end of the block," he added, as Prentiss exited the room, her phone already at her ear.

_**Page Break**_

Morgan and Rossi stepped out of the SUV as they parked it at the corner, and looked around. As he pushed his sunglasses over his eyes, Morgan spotted a vendor stand halfway down the block, and turned his head.

"Rossi..." he spoke, motioning ahead of him. Rossi, with a nod, stepped around the front of the vehicle, and made his way down the walk with Morgan at his side. They moved around the smiling children and clustered families, and before too long, they stood beside the vendor, watching as he finished creating a dog for the little girl who was watching him in awe. He lifted his head, and raised an eyebrow.

"I make balloon sculptures for all ages, what would you two like today?" he asked, in a joyful tone with a smile on his face. Rossi couldn't resist smirking a little, before flashing his badge.

"We'd like to ask you some questions," he replied, watching as the vendor sighed, and nodded, motioning around the cart. He tugged a curtain across the front, effectively "closing" the stand for the time, before turning around to face them.

"Ask away, I got nothin' t'hide," he said, with a small smile. Morgan pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, and unfolded it, holding it up.

"Do you know this man?" Morgan asked, as the vendor took the paper.

"Course I do...this is Jake, he's a friend of mine. Why?"

"Does he ever work this stand with you?" Rossi asked, glancing over as Morgan pulled out his phone.

"I hate closin' the stand, so if I get a last minute call and need help, I offer the stand to Jake for the night. He's not too shabby at makin' balloon animals, and he seems to enjoy it. I even split that night's take with him," he explained, shrugging as though it was nothing.

"Did this happen last night?" The vendor knit his eyebrows together.

"Yeah..." Morgan tilted his head.

"What's his last name?"

"...Rowans. Jake Rowans." Morgan took a few steps away from the vendor cart, as Rossi nodded.

"We have a couple of eyewitnesses who saw him running away from this stand with a little boy, around six last night..." It was apparent by the surprise and uncertainty on the vendor's face that he had no idea what Rossi meant.

"I was working the stand at six, I had just taken it back from Jake...he said he was goin' home, but...I didn't see him after I took over. Of course, it gets really busy in the evenings – more parents comin' around to take their kids to dinner, you know?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable.

"Rossi, Garcia's got an address for him," Morgan called from a few steps away.

"Where?"

"A few blocks from here," he replied, but the vendor held up his hand.

"No...uh...Jake moved out of there about a month ago..." He moved to his bag that was hooked on the side of the cart, and dug around for a second, before he pulled out a small torn card with a scribbled address printed on it. "He gave me this – its where he is now," he added, holding it out to Rossi. With a nod, the two returned to the SUV.

"Did Garcia get anything else on him?"

"He's got a record of sexual acts against minors – and he missed his last appointment with his parole officer," Morgan replied, nodding his head.

_**Page Break**_

The SUV had just turned the corner, a block from the street vendor, when Morgan's phone began to ring on his hip. Glancing down, he flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, turning his head so as not to disrupt Rossi, who was in the passenger seat, his own phone against his ear as he spoke with Hotch.

"Morgan."

"...Derek?" There was uncertainty in her voice, and he sighed softly, unable to help himself.

"What's up, Gayle?" She shifted a little as she stood beside the bed, her hand on her suitcase, before sighing, too.

"I just...When you get home tonight, can we talk?"

As Rossi closed his phone, and turned to talk to Derek, he paused, stopped short by the look on his face.

"Gayle, this is not the time to be callin' me sayin' that we need t'talk, alright? I'm working," he spoke, his voice a bit harsh. She pursed her lips, and lowered her head.

"I...I know that you're working..."

"So then why did you call?"

"Because I wasn't expecting you to answer it if I called you. I was only going to leave you a message," she answered, hanging up before he could say another word, and tossing her phone onto the bed. Morgan opened his mouth, but when the line clicked, and the sound stopped, he groaned, and shook his head, simply snapping the phone shut to put it back.

"...problems?" Rossi asked. Morgan glanced over, but shook his head.

"...no..." he lied, before pressing his foot into the gas a bit more, and rushing them down the road.

_**Page Break**_

The agents hunkered near the door, guns at the ready, as Hotch wrapped his knuckles on the door.

"Jake Rowans! This is the FBI, open the door!"

No one inside spoke, but when they heard rustling, Hotch gripped the doorknob, and twisted it. The shake of his head prompted him and Morgan to trade spots, as Morgan raised his leg, and slammed his boot into the door, knocking it out of the door jam. The team filed inside, guns aimed, and spread out through the small, neat apartment. Prentiss and Reid averted their eyes from the walls covered in thumbtacked photos of children as they passed through the living room, and into the bedroom. The blanket was puffed up near the head of the bed, and they could see Bash's dark curls poking out from the top of the blanket. Reid felt a brick drop on his stomach as he darted his eyes around the room before holstering his weapon and rushing for the bed.

Hotch pressed his back against the wall, peeking over at Morgan before he opened the only closed door in the building. As he pulled the door outward, and the light captured every corner of the small closet, Hotch sighed, shaking his head. Before he could step back, he caught sight of a pair of shoes sticking out from beneath the rack, that were formed to the trembling feet inside them. Glancing back at Morgan, he reached out, and yanked the clothes off the hanger, aiming his weapon into the closet.

"Ah! Please! Don't shoot me!" he sobbed, his hands in the air, his whole body shaking. Morgan and Hotch grabbed his hands, and pulled him to the floor, ignoring his pleas. "Please don't hurt me..."

"Why would we hurt you, Rowans? Because you like defenseless kids?" Morgan asked, holstering his weapon and removing his cuffs. Rowans whimpered, but did not answer. "Nah...I don't want to hurt ya, Rowans...I really want to smash your face into the floor until you stop shaking, but I don't want to hurt ya," Morgan threatened, roughly cuffing him before yanking him off the floor.

_**Page Break**_

Garcia stepped into the room, and glanced around, sighing when she saw Mel curled into Reid's chair, shoulders trembling as she clutched her knees to her chest. Frowning, she ducked out of the room for a second, and came back with a bottle of water. Making her way up to the desk, she set it down, and rubbed her hand against Mel's shoulders.

"Hey...have a drink of water, Mel, please?" she asked, her voice soft and understanding. With shaky hands, she took the bottle, and sipped it, sniffling as she set the bottle back down.

"Why my son, Garcia? Why him, of every child in the world, why mine?" Mel asked. Her voice was soft and broken, and Garcia's heart broke when she heard her. Rather than answer, and saving herself from saying 'I don't know', Garcia moved around, and wrapped her arms around Mel, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

The elevator doors opened, and Morgan and Prentiss stepped through, stopping to catch the doors so Reid could walk in behind them. Prentiss took a few steps ahead of them, and pulled open the glass doors, lifting her head to see Reid as he walked in. Garcia looked up from where she was beside Mel, and slowly stood, causing Mel to turn around to see what she was looking at. When she saw Reid, she almost broke down again, but this time, she stood completely, and made her away around the desks.

The team watched, with smiles on their faces, as Mel threw her arms around her son, and pulled him into her arms. As Bash nestled his head against Mel's, he kissed her cheek, and in a very soft voice, murmured, "I love you, mommy."


	7. Morgan's Missing

His fingers brushed the dashboard as he turned off the lights, before he flipped the key and shut off the engine. For a moment, Morgan rested his head on the seat, and closed his eyes. He wasn't looking forward to going into the house, to have whatever conversation Gayle thought they needed to have. But he knew he couldn't just spend the night sitting in his car. Heaving a sigh, he pushed open the door, and pocketed his keys, making his way towards the house. He paused a few steps from the door when he heard Clooney barking madly inside. Frowning, he pulled his weapon, and peered into the house.

"Gayle?" he called, looking around. The front door had been wide open, but Clooney wasn't out in the open – he could see the bedroom door was closed, but shaking, every time Clooney clawed at it. Morgan was barely a step into the house when he felt the hard pain on the back of his head, and he dropped to the ground, the entire world going dark.

While Morgan's eyes remained covered during the trip, and the world remained dark around him, he could feel the bumps, and hear the engine, as the van barreled down the road. He moved his hands against the rope with which they were bound, and reached out away from his body until his hands brushed over Gayle's back. At his touch, she whimpered, and jerked her body away from his hands.

"Easy...Gayle...it's just me..." She tilted her head, blinded by a similar cover as Morgan's, her hands bound by the same rope.

"Derek..."

"What happened?" he asked, his voice low. Her body was trembling as his hands pressed against her back, and he bit down upon his lip.

"I don't know...I...I remember letting Clooney in the house...and the next thing...I...I don't know," she murmured, shaking her head and groaning softly as pain shot out from a bump on the back of her head.

"It's okay, just...just relax, okay? I'm right here, and I am not gonna let anything happen to you," he spoke. His voice was soothing, and it helped her stop trembling, but the knot in her stomach didn't go away. It only got worse. She lowered her chin to her chest, and sighed softly.

"Just...d-don't promise that, okay?" Morgan was caught off guard by what she said, and slid his hand a little against her hip.

"Why not?"

"Because if something happens..." Before she could choose her words and continue her statement, the brakes squealed as the van lurched forward, and the driver's door slammed shut. Within a few seconds, Morgan's hands were moved, his body hauled from the back of the van over the driver's shoulder. "Morgan? No, no, Morgan! Bring him back! Please!" she begged, hearing him grunt from a distance. She scrambled to get to her feet, but when she couldn't pull them apart due to the rope that bound them together, she thrust out her hands to find the end of the van, grabbing hold to pull herself out. Gayle yanked her body across the cold metal of the van, and gasped, then grunted, as the solid metal vanished, and she dropped a couple of feet onto the hard concrete. She groaned, and rolled onto her back, moving her hands up to take off the blindfold. Just as she did, and the darkness began to disappear, a shadow loomed over her, and the pain surged back through her skull, plummeting her into the darkness again.

_**Page Break**_

The phone began to ring, but it rang a few times before Hotch lowered his pen, and pulled the receiver to his ear.

"Hotchner..."

"Hotch, it's Emily...something's wrong, with Morgan." Hotch frowned, looking over his shoulder to see the desks out his window.

"What do you mean?" he asked, uncertain. She turned away from where she stood in the hallway, and sighed.

"His car is parked in the driveway, his bike is near the garage, but his front door was open, his gun was in the door to the kitchen, and Clooney was locked in the bedroom. He's not here, but there's blood in the hallway..." Prentiss said, clearly shaken.

"Don't touch anything, we're on our way..." he said, hanging up and exiting the office. "Morgan's gone missing," he announced as he rounded up Reid and Rossi. "Prentiss is there now, we need to get Garcia on the trace for his phone, see if we can find him." Mel looked up from her place in Morgan's chair, and frowned.

"Wait...Morgan's missing?" she asked, her voice quiet as she held Bash against her. Hotch nodded. "Gayle was staying with him...there's...there's no sign of her, either?" The agents looked between themselves, before Hotch plucked his phone off his hip, and called Prentiss. He stepped away for a second, and Reid leaned down to kiss Mel's forehead.

"You can stay here, or go sit in the office with JJ, if you want...but don't go home, not until we're finished, okay?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Hadn't planned on it..."

"Prentiss said there's no sign of Gayle. There's an open suitcase on the bed, and some clothes are in it, but there's a couple of shirts just laying on the floor that look like they were dropped," Hotch replied, hanging up with Prentiss and dialing Garcia. "I'm going to get Garcia on both of their cells, see if we can find them," he said, motioning for Rossi and Reid to follow him as they left the office.

_**Page Break**_

There was a cold bar in Morgan's back as he regained consciousness. Groaning, and rubbing his free hands over his uncovered face, he rolled his head, and groaned again as his head rolled off one bar, between it and another. He opened his eyes, and look around himself, frowning as the room came into focus. It wasn't so much a room, but instead, a cell. His body was seated on a cot, the ropes and blindfold had been removed, and the walls, floor, and ceiling were solid concrete.

Turning his head, and blinking a few times to clear his sight, he realized that there were only two solid walls in his cell, and two were barred. Through one of the walls, he could see a real bed against the opposite wall, and tied to it with the same rope he had been tied with earlier, was Gayle. He scrambled off the bed, and moved for the bars, jerking back when a shock jolted through his body. Morgan hit the floor, and groaned, waiting to regain his composure before he stood up.

"Gayle? Gayle...wake up..." Her hands were tied over her head, the rope bound over the headboard, and around, wrapped around her neck. Her feet were tied apart, one to each post at the foot of the bed. Her eyes were closed, but he could see her face twist into one of discomfort and confusion as she began to come to. "Come on, gorgeous, open your eyes and look at me."

With a groan of pain, and a slight shift of her weight, Gayle's eyes opened, and darted about as she realized she was in a strange room, surrounded by cold walls and constricting bars. A small relieved sigh passed Morgan's lips as he looked into the room, taking care not to touch the bars separating him from her.

"There we go..." She turned her head towards his voice, and carefully lifted her head, wincing when her hands were pulled further up. Frowning, she pulled her hands back down, and gagged as the rope around her neck tightened. "Hey, easy, put your head back down...I'm right across the floor, okay?" She whimpered softly as she lowered her head against the mattress, and sniffled.

"...Derek...I'm so sorry, Derek, I never should have come back," Gayle murmured, shaking her head as she closed her eyes.

"Hey, now, knock that off. This isn't your fau-"

"I don't need you to console me, Derek. If I hadn't come back, you wouldn't be here now, and neither would I. None of this would have happened if I had sta-"

"Abygayl, this is not the time for this talk...We can talk all you want, about anything you want, once we get out of here and back to the house, okay? I promise..." He heard her scoff as she rolled her head so he couldn't see her face, and he couldn't help but sigh. Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, he heard a door down the hall open, and shut.

Morgan stepped away from the bars, and lowered his body back onto the cot, as their captor, face covered with a large hood, unlocked the bars outside of Gayle's cell. Without a word, he stepped in, and approached her, towering over her now trembling form.

"...you know...for a couple, you two are doin' a lot less talkin' than everyone else did..." he spoke, his voice scratchy and low. Gayle pursed her lips, and glanced upwards at the shadowed face of the man standing beside her.

"...We aren't a couple. We've never been a couple. You are just an idiot," she snarled, unable to help herself the more she spoke. His hand struck her in the face, causing her to cry out and whimper as she tried to roll away from him.

"It makes you a whore then, doesn't it?" he snarled back, gripping the rope between her hands and her neck and pulling. She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping for air as the rope tightened around her throat. Morgan hopped off the bed, moving up near the bars.

"Hey! Hey, leave her alone! C'mon, man, knock it off!" Morgan hollered across the rooms.

The man released the rope when Gayle began to squeak in her attempt to breathe, before turning, and staring down at Morgan through the shadow covering his face. Without another word, he exited Gayle's cell, locked it up again, and disappeared down the hallway.

The whimpers and panicked gasps for breath captured Derek's attention as he turned to see her, rather than stare after their captor. She wriggled almost helplessly against her ropes, tears beginning to stream down her face.

"Gayle...come on, Gayle, calm down, we're gonna get out of this, I swear," he promised. She shook her head, and squeezed her eyes closed.

"I really...I really want to believe you, I really do, but...but I don't know that I can, Derek. I don't...I don't know..." she rambled softly, shaking her head and attempting to move so she didn't have to look him in the eyes. Morgan frowned as he watched her, but knowing he couldn't get through the bars without most likely killing himself, he took the few steps back, and lowered his body onto his bed once more.


	8. Tortured

Prentiss nudged the front door closed, glancing down the hall as Hotch stepped out of the bedroom.

"Anything?"

"It looks like Gayle was packing...something brought her out of the bedroom," he said, tracing his steps towards the living room. "With the location of Morgan's gun, it doesn't look like he made it passed the hallway...so this wouldn't be his blood," Hotch added, pointing to the drops on the hardwood floor.

"CSI's are running it now – Gayle and Morgan are both in the system, so if it's hers, we'll know." Hotch lifted his head, eyebrow raised.

"Gayle's in the system now?" She nodded her head.

"Garcia made sure to get her in the system in the event that anything happened to her, so she doesn't have to go through not knowing again," Reid answered as he entered the room.

Prentiss moved back into the hallway, and headed towards the back door, sighing. There was no sign of a struggle aside from the droplets in the living room, but Morgan and Gayle were missing, and Clooney was pacing at the back door, steadily whimpering. As she turned to head back into the living room, Hotch's phone began to ring.

"Hey, Garcia," he said, turning on the speaker phone.

"Alright, sir, I ran cell phone numbers, but both of the phones are turned off...I'm working on turning them on, but I have the feeling that Morgan's battery is dead – it's not turning on at all. And Gayle's phone is one I'd have to contact her provider to turn on..."

"Do it," Hotch ordered. "Then call me when you know where it's at." Garcia agreed, before hanging up her phone.

_**Page Break**_

Although there were no windows in either cell, the natural light that filtered down from the small, off-center window down the hall was gone, the cells now only lit by the yellowed bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Morgan's head rested against the cold slab of concrete beside his bed, his eyes focused through the bad lighting to see Gayle on the bed against the opposite wall. Her face was sallow, although he knew the lighting didn't help the way she looked any. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be sleeping, but his eyes drifted up to her hands. She was sliding them back and forth against the edge of the headboard, catching the rope against the corner as she moved them. Morgan watched her, curious, for a few moments, before he got up and moved towards the bars.

"...Gayle?" She slowly rolled her head, and opened her eyes, looking over at him. "What are you doin', baby?" Despite the conditions, Gayle couldn't help herself - she blushed when he called her "baby", and pursed her lips.

"...I'm not doing anything," she replied, obviously lying but not willing to change her answer. Morgan smiled a little, and sighed.

"Baby, I'm really sorry you're in here...you should be home, in bed, curled up with Clooney and watchin' a movie," he said, shaking his head a little.

"Derek, no...no, I wouldn't want to leave you here, you should be home with Clooney..." she replied, sniffling softly as she closed her eyes. He watched as she winced, and when he turned his head to see why, he saw a small trickle of blood drip down her wrist.

"Gayle...Aw, damn, come on now, what are you doin'?"

"I misjudged the headboard...I'm fine, I'm fine, I've done worse," she said, ignoring the blood and the pain in her hands as she rolled her head to see the ropes.

"Gayle, stop it, please...you're hurt, you don't need to make it worse," he begged, frowning as he watched her.

"I am not doing anything, stop worrying about me, I'll be fine," she said, but her voice told him otherwise. It was tense and shaky, and when he took a step to the side to see her better, he realized she was trembling.

There was no feeling in his body except remorse and sadness when he saw how terrified Gayle really was. Even though she was trying to tear the ropes on the headboard, he knew she wasn't certain it would work. He silently damned their captor for what he'd done, for what he was doing, and for electrifying the bars to keep Morgan from getting close to her.

_**Page Break**_

The sun filtered in through the windows, the light a faint mix of pink, red, and orange, as the sun rose in the sky. Morgan's eyes were closed, and he was enjoying the small bit of sleep he'd managed to get during the night while they were uninterrupted. Gayle had drifted in and out all night, but the pressure on her throat when her hands were limp made it near impossible for her to relax too much.

His eyes opened as the door at the end of the hall swung open, and he lifted his head to see the man unlock Gayle's door, and step in, one hand hidden in his pocket, the other out as he grabbed the rope at the head of the bed, and pulled sharply. Gayle's eyes shot open, and she cried out in surprise as her head jerked upwards, and her body writhed against the ropes.

"Hey! Let her go! Knock it off, man!" Morgan exclaimed, pushing himself off his bed and moving towards the bars. The color faded fast from Gayle's face as he held the rope down, and closed off her airway, but her eyes welled up with tears as they silently begged for relief. As her eyes began to flutter, and she was incapable of any more sound than a squeak, he released the rope, causing her to suck in a hard, sharp breath, before she shakily began to sob.

The man turned around to look at Morgan, only this time, his face was no longer covered in shadow. The hood was pulled up, but not far enough – his sky blue eyes pierced Morgan's as he removed his pistol from his pocket. When he lifted it, Morgan stepped backwards, eyes wide and lips curled downwards. Behind the captor, Gayle wriggled and rubbed her wrists against the headboard as hard as she could, covering the sounds with her sobs and gasps for air.

The captor, glaring hard at Morgan, lifted his arm, and pulled the trigger, firing one shot near Morgan, but not at him. It hit the concrete, and while it left a small hole in the wall, it dropped to the floor behind the mattress instead of sticking. At the sound, Gayle cried out, and Morgan ducked out of the way, hands up on the side of his head. The captor smirked, and turned, approaching the bed again with his gun still grasped in his hand.

He positioned the barrel of the weapon against her temple, and held it there, his finger against the trigger. She squeezed her eyes closed, begging for him to spare her, whimpering, and wriggling against her restraints. Morgan approached the bars, hollering at him to leave her alone, but the man didn't move, and didn't flinch. He simply stood his ground, torturing them both more with the idea of pulling the trigger, rather than doing so. With a smirk on his lips, he lowered the weapon, and walked back out of the cell, locking it behind him as he disappeared down the hallway. Gayle wriggled, her hands still tense over her head, as she sobbed and shook. Morgan lowered his head, silently cursing the man that was torturing them, and hoping to God that the team would find them.

_**Page Break**_

As the team closed up Morgan's house, and headed for the SUVs, Prentiss' cell began to ring. She paused, and flipped it open, pressing it to her ear.

"Tell me you got something, Garcia," she pleaded, glancing over her shoulder at the house before continuing to the vehicle. Garcia, with a smirk, pressed a couple buttons on her keyboard.

"Gayle's phone has been turned on – and I have sent you an address and some information," she answered, with a proud tone.

"You are a God-sent gift, Garcia," she answered, hanging up, and pressing a couple of buttons on her phone. "Garcia found it. It's a residence, about a half hour away."

"Registered to who?" Hotch asked as he turned the key into the ignition.

"Thomas Winston – he's thirty-four, white, no wife, no kids."

"Any record?"

"All Garcia said was that he's got a long list of priors, most of which involve disputes with the police," she answered, closing her phone, and buckling up.

_**Page Break**_

Gayle rolled her head to see Morgan, and sighed softly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low. He turned his head to see her, before shrugging, and sighing.

"I'm worried about you, I could care less about myself," he replied, pacing a little bit.

"Funny...I feel the same way," Gayle replied, forcing a small chuckle to pass her lips. Morgan couldn't resist smiling a little at the pleasant sound, before he turned to see her.

"Hey, baby? When we get out of here...what do you say I take you to dinner? Any where that you want to go," he offered, raising an eyebrow as he smiled at her. Gayle blushed a bright pink, and she rolled her head to see him, smiling a little.

"_When_ we get out? Oh, Derek...I really wish I could see things that way," she admitted sheepishly.

"Come on, have I ever let you down before?" he answered, eyebrow raised.

Gayle lay quietly for a moment, watching Derek through the cell bars, before she shook her head. He peered back at her, and shoved his hands into his pockets, standing as near to the bars as he could without getting shocked.

"I wish I was in there with you, Gayle...even if I was tied up, at least we'd be in the same cell."

"I wish that we weren't here at all," she answered, and he nodded in agreement.

The two enjoyed each other's company in silence, as Gayle continued rubbing her wrists against the bed. Morgan paced the floor in his small cell, trying to think clearly, and occasionally glancing over at Gayle to see how she was holding up. Several moments passed before he heard her gasp, and he turned on his heels to see her.

"Gayle?" She pulled her hands down from the headboard, the rope still wrapped around them, but this time, the rope around her neck didn't constrict, and she lifted her head to see him. In her hands was a part of the back of the headboard which broke when her ropes did.

"...I got it to break." A smile spread across his face when he saw that she'd managed to sever the rope that tied her neck to her hands, but that smile, and their excitement, quickly vanished when the door at the end of the hall opened. She quickly laid back on the bed, sticking her hands behind the headboard, and simply holding onto the rope she'd severed.

Winston reentered Gayle's cell, the pistol already drawn and at the ready. Morgan caught Gayle's eye, attempting to give her a look that was comforting, but the fear that filled her face told Morgan nothing he did at that moment would help.

Rather than simply point the barrel at Gayle's temple, Winston cocked the hammer back, and pressed it right against her skin, placing his finger on the trigger. Gayle felt her heart beat throughout every inch of her body as she yanked her hands out from behind the headboard, and shoved the gun away from her head. The last thing she wanted was to die tied to a bed, with Morgan in the next cell, helpless. But as her hands swung down, and plunged the splinter of wood from the headboard into Winston's neck, the gun swung, and went off.

Winston's body dropped to the floor, his hands fumbling for the weapon in his throat, gargling as blood poured down his front. Within moments, his body slumped into the concrete, and he simply twitched until he went cold. Morgan's eyes lifted from Winston's dying body, and he felt the terror grip at his heart.

Blood was pooling around Gayle, and her hands were clasped weakly over her stomach.

"...Gayle?"

"...Derek..." she trembled, lifting her head to see him. He could see the fear, and the pain, in her eyes. When her hands lifted slightly, he saw what made her look that way.

The bullet from the gun had pierced through her abdomen.


	9. Save Your Strength

There was pure fear in Morgan's eyes as he looked through the bars at Gayle. She laid on the bed, hands laid across her stomach in her feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. Her breathing was shallow, and her head was on the mattress once more as she squeezed her eyes closed.

"D-Derek...I'm...it's cold," she murmured, carefully opening her eyes to see him.

"Baby, just look at me, okay? Just look at me. Keep your eyes open, it'll be okay, I swear, things are gonna be fine," he repeated, knowing she probably saw right through him. Her head rolled to the side, and she whimpered softly as she pressed her hands more into her wound.

"Derek...d-don't...d-don't lie...please..." He lowered his head, taking in a sharp breath, but rubbed his hands over the back of his neck. Before he could open his mouth to reply, a ringing sounded from Winston's pocket. Both of them turned to look at him, and he glanced at Gayle.

"What is that?"

"That..." Confusion replaced part of the fear and pain on her face as she looked up at him. "I think...that's my phone...my ringer for Reid..." she struggled to say, shaking her head. That statement brought a small smirk to his face.

"If that's your phone, Gayle, then they know where we are," he replied, glancing over his shoulder.

He hoisted the mattress off the bed frame behind him, and shoved it towards the bars nearest him. As it hit the bars, his feet slipped, and his hand hit the bar in an attempt to gain his balance. Instead of the jolt he received the first time, his hand hit the bar freely, without pain. Glancing around, he yanked the mattress away, and threw his body against the bars, groaning each time when the bars shook but didn't give. Turning, he lifted the bed frame, laying it against the bars, and slamming it against them until they gave and swung open.

Morgan toppled onto the frame as it crashed into the floor, knocking his head against the cool metal. Groaning, and putting his hand on his forehead, he sighed, and rolled onto his back, dropping onto the floor a couple feet below. Shaking it off, he scrambled back to his feet, and slid around the bars, into Gayle's cell. He yanked her phone out of Winston's pocket, and redialed the last number, listening as Reid answered.

"Gayle?"

"Reid! It's Morgan, where are you guys?"

"We're pulling up now, do you know where you are?"

"A basement in a cell with Gayle...guys, ya gotta hurry, she's not doing so well," he said, flipping on the speaker phone and setting it on the floor as he kneeled beside Gayle. She was trembling as she looked at Morgan with fear in her eyes.

Once he'd removed the sweater that Winston had been wearing, Morgan folded it, and laid it over her stomach, lifting her hands to help apply pressure.

"C'mon, Gayle, stay with me."

"Morgan, what happened?" Hotch's voice sounded through the phone.

"She's been shot, Hotch." The others were silent for the few seconds before the line went dead, and Gayle closed her eyes.

"Derek...promise me something?" she asked softly, moving her hands carefully and laying her pinky over his thumb. He glanced down, and then back up at her.

"Anything."

"...Call my mother? T-Tell her...tell her I love her," she murmured, closing her eyes as a few tears rolled down her face. He shook his head, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Don't talk like this, baby, you're gonna be fine. The team's here, you're gonna be just fine."

The door upstairs flew open as Hotch kicked it in, and the team stormed into the entryway. Morgan, turning his head, applied a little more pressure to Gayle's stomach.

"Guys! We're down here!" he called, not moving from the floor beside the bed.

Within a minute, Hotch and Reid were moving down the hallway, guns at the ready. When they saw Winston lying still upon the floor, Hotch holstered his weapon and checked his pulse before moving to Gayle and Morgan. Reid holstered his weapon, as well, but rather than enter the room, he moved back down the hallway, stepping out of the door and out of sight.

"Gayle? It's Hotch. You're safe now, we've got an ambulance on the way. Just stay calm, you'll be fine, okay?" he said, reaching down to pull her hair back off her face and neck. She rolled her eyes up to see him, and gave a very soft, semi-forced laugh.

"You two sound the same..." she replied, softly, as she closed her eyes. "I'm...really cold..." she murmured, wincing as she attempted to shift.

"Hey, hey, don't move..." Morgan said quickly, glancing up at Hotch. Behind them, they heard Reid's voice, and when they glanced, he was leading in an EMT with a gurney. Morgan carefully stood, and looked down. "Look, here's an EMT, you're gonna get help now, Gayle, you'll be fine," he said, stepping out of the way as the EMT took his place. Morgan moved around to the other side of the bed, and lifted Gayle's hand carefully, holding it between both of his.

"Derek..." She partially opened her eyes to look up at him, and his stomach dropped when he saw how weak she really was getting. "...I...I know we haven't seen eye-to-eye on everything lately...but...I just..."

"Gayle, baby...you can tell me when you get to the hospital, alright?" She slowly shook her head.

"Derek, please..."

"Save your strength...please..." he spoke, and she could hear the tone in his voice. She closed her mouth, and her eyes, as another EMT entered the room behind Reid, and helped move Gayle onto the stretcher.

"Morgan, ride with her to the hospital, and get yourself checked out," Hotch ordered, nodding after Gayle. Morgan considered, for a brief second, upon debating, but nodded, and followed behind the stretcher as the EMTs led them from the room.

_**Page Break**_

The team was quiet as they returned to the office. Rossi and Hotch were looking over the case file as they silently headed for their offices. Garcia looked up when she heard Prentiss across the way, putting her things down. There was a small smile on her face when she caught Garcia's eye, but she looked up as Reid entered the room. He came around the desks, and pulled up an empty chair to sit beside Mel as she sat in his chair, Bash still clinging to her shoulders.

"Hey...is...is Gayle..." Mel began to ask, but Reid gave a soft "shh" when he realized Bash was asleep.

"She's at the hospital, Morgan's with her," he answered simply, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. "It's fine." Mel seemed relieved as she rested her head on Reid's, and closed her eyes.

"Can...we go now? I'm exhausted...and so is this little guy," she murmured. Reid, with a smile, nodded, and stood up, pushing the chair back.

"Sure...c'mon...Emily? If they ask, I just ran Mel and Bash home..."

"I bet they'd be fine if you waited to write your report until tomorrow," she offered, shrugging. His eyes darted towards hers as he considered it, before he nodded.

"I'll see you tomorrow...you too, Garcia," he said, squeezing her shoulder as he walked behind Mel as they headed to the elevator. Garcia looked around for a second, before looking to Prentiss.

"Is Morgan okay?"

"Oh...yeah, he's fine. A bump on the head, but he's fine," Prentiss replied reassuringly, smiling as she opened the file on her desk. Pleased to hear that he was okay, she stood up, and headed back to her own office, pulling the door closed behind her.

_**Page Break**_

The nurse jotted down the stats on the machines around the bed, before pocketing the pen, and exiting the room. Morgan, with a hand resting gently on the back of his head, made his way around the door, and sighed. Gayle was lying in bed, an IV hooked up to one arm, a bandage around her head. Her eyes were closed, but according to the monitors, her heart beat and breathing were steady, and she was stable. He crossed the linoleum floor, and stood beside her, sighing as he shook his head.

"C'mon, Gayle...wake up..." he murmured, putting his hand against her arm. He stood there quietly for a little while, watching her sleep, before he turned and exited the room, leaving her surrounded by blips and beeps from her monitors.


	10. Rest

Days passed.

The knot on the back of Morgan's head had begun to heal, the swelling was nearly gone. Mel and Reid spent more time together with Bash, barely letting a moment go by without looking at him, or holding onto him.

Gayle continued to lay in the hospital, an IV in her arm, the heart monitor hooked to her chest, and the bandage around her head. Although Morgan would have preferred staying at the hospital more than an hour at a time, the BAU needed him more than Gayle's sleeping form, and he was called away day after day to help them stop the bad guys.

The team was on a case in Michigan when she came to, groggily looking around the room in hopes of seeing a familiar face. Instead, she saw the blur of fluorescent lighting that hung from the ceiling, and the shadow-covered face of the nurse who was checking her monitors.

"...well, hey, stranger...glad to see your back," she replied with a smile on her face. Gayle winced, rolling her head away from the nurse, as she raised her hand to cover her eyes. "How are you feelin?" the nurse asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmn...like...I got shot..." she grumbled, closing her eyes again, and laying her hand completely over her face. "Where am I?" she whispered.

"You, darling, are in the hospital, in your own private room...your friends haven't been around in a couple of days, though...I can call someone if ya want me to, let them know you're awake," she offered, with a sweet smile on her face. Gayle wanted to groan at the sweetness in her voice, unable to enjoy it as much as most patients probably did, but she refrained from doing so, and sighed softly instead.

"No...no thank you...I just..." Before she could say that she just wanted to be alone, her stomach rumbled instead, and she blushed faintly. "I'm really hungry, I guess..." With a chuckle, the nurse nodded her head.

"We'll get ya taken care of, darlin'," she smiled, patting Gayle's foot gently as she rounded the end of the bed and heading out the door.

_**Page Break**_

It was dark when Gayle awoke again. She lay quietly in her room, listening to the sounds in the hallway, for a while before she reached out carefully, and lifted the phone off the table beside the bed. Setting the base of the phone on the bed, she rested the receiver between her shoulder and her ear, and punched in a number she hadn't had to dial in a very long time. After a couple of rings, a soft, sleep-laced voice answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"...hey, Mel...it's me." Mel sat up, a little more awake, as she glanced at Bash's sleeping form in the bed beside her.

"Gayle? Hi! You're awake! How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft. Gayle smiled.

"I'm tired, and sore...did I wake you?"

"...yeah, but that's alright..." Gayle gently shook her head.

"No...you go back to sleep...I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" Gayle gave her a second before speaking again. "Where, uh...where's Morgan?"

"...the team has a case in Michigan, so they all flew out," she answered, with a soft smile. Gayle nodded, wincing slightly as she put her other hand over the top of her head, before sighing and leaning her head back on the pillow.

"Okay...how's Bash?"

"He's fine...sleeping peacefully next to mommy," she replied with a smirk, reaching out to gently touch her son's head. He shifted in his sleep, but didn't wake, simply sighing contentedly as he stayed in his dreams.

_**Page Break**_

The TV was on in the corner, playing the show loud enough for Gayle to hear from her bed, but she wasn't watching it. Instead, she had her head tilted back, and her eyes closed, with both her hands over her stomach. She heard footsteps approach the door, but stop when they reached her room. She didn't move, though – she laid still and listened to their movements, as they entered the room and stopped beside her bed.

"...After all this, you're watchin' a crime show?" Morgan asked, eyebrow raised, as he saw what was on the TV screen. Gayle rolled her head, glancing at it before she looked up at him.

"It was the only thing on...and I enjoy yelling at the TV when I know who the killer is," she murmured, reaching out and rubbing her hand against his arm. "You are a sight for sore and tired eyes, Derek Morgan...how's your head?" she asked, moving her hips gently and patting the bed beside her for him to sit. He hesitated, but the look in her eyes comforted him enough to sit beside her.

"My head is fine...just a bump. I've had worse, I promise," he said, trying to prevent her from worrying over him. "How are you feelin'? You were out of it for a few days," he added, reaching up to brush his thumb against her cheek. Gayle smiled, leaning her head against his hand, and shrugged.

"I'm...feeling. I'm not cold anymore," she said, with a soft chuckle. He smirked, and shook his head, rolling his eyes a little.

"That's good...you had me worried back there, you know..." She knitted her eyebrows together.

"Worried?" For once, Morgan looked unsure as he looked away from her eyes, and took her hand.

"...I was worried that I was gonna lose you." The pair had known each other for years, and not once in that time had she ever heard his voice so quiet, seen his eyes so unguarded. It made her blush a bright pink, and she glanced down, running her fingers across the back of his hand.

"...I thought so, too," she murmured, running her free hand over her stomach. "Hard not to think that...but...Derek, you covered it somewhat well," she added, smiling a little.

Morgan's hand held hers tightly, as he watched her lay in the bed. Neither of them spoke, as the television played behind him, but they didn't move either. After a few minutes, once the nurse had come and gone for her routine check of Gayle's monitors, Gayle breathed out softly, and squeezed his hand. He lifted his eyes, and bit his lip.

"Hey, Gayle?" She raised her eyes to meet his, curious.

"What?" He thought for a moment, before reaching up and pushing her hair off her face with a small smile.

"You were going to tell me something, when the EMTs arrived at the house...what was it?" he asked, wondering if she even remembered. The look in her eyes as she turned her head to look away told him she did, and he slid his finger to her chin, turning her head towards him again. "Gayle..." With a soft sigh, she squeezed his hand, and dropped her head gently back against her pillow.

"...Derek...I..." He raised an eyebrow, causing her to stop, and look at him. "I was afraid that...that once I was in that ambulance, I would never see you again. I was afraid that this," she said, putting her fingers across her stomach where her wound was, "was going to take me away from you...and I didn't want to die...without telling you how I felt." There was an uncertainty on his face, in his eyes, that made her smile a little as she wrapped both her hands around his. "I love you...Derek Morgan. It took me nearly three years to have the strength to say that, but I love you..." she spoke, her voice soft and full of uncertainty as her eyes darted away from his when he looked into hers.

The two didn't speak for several moments, but they didn't need to – within seconds, Morgan was trailing his fingers against her cheek, a sweet smile lying across his lips. She finally lifted her eyes to see him, and she returned a hopeful smile as her fingers moved across the back of his other hand.

"...I love you too, Gayle," he finally spoke softly, placing his free hand against the bed to support him as he leaned up, and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. She smiled, moving a little as he pulled back, before patting the bed.

"You look...exhausted...c'mon. Lay down, there's enough room." Morgan chuckled, smiling, but shook his head.

"No way, you're still healing."

"I don't care – I want you to lay with me, Morgan...would it make any difference if I said that's an order?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Laughing, he shook his head again, but this time, he stood, laid his cell phone and credentials on the bedside table, and laid beside her, carefully putting his arm behind her head.

"Okay, it shouldn't, but it does..." She smiled somewhat proudly, resting her head against his arm, and cautiously scooting her form against his body. He glanced down, and put his hand against her waist. "Careful, Gayle...you're hurt, you don't need to be moving around yet."

"Do you know what it's like to be confined to a bed, unable to move because of a hole in your stomach? It's excruciating – I'm tense, I wanna get up, and move, and I can't, because some nut ball decided it was a good idea to kidnap the both of us, and shoot me," she replied, shaking her head as she sighed. Morgan ran his fingers through her hair gently, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

"I know, babe, I know...just get some rest, alright? I'll hang around for a little while." With a small, reluctant sigh, Gayle nodded, kissed his arm, and closed her eyes.


	11. We Will Be

Reid lifted his gaze from his desk, peering across the way to see Morgan. His eyes were blankly staring down at the paperwork on his desk, but his hand was up, the pen between his fingers, as he supported his head. Reid glanced towards Prentiss, who had noticed Morgan's lack of motion, but she raised a brow, and shrugged a little, turning back to her own paperwork. Reid cleared his throat, and leaned back in his chair, turning his attention to Morgan once more.

"Hey...Morgan?" There was a moment pause before Morgan even blinked, and glanced over.

"Yeah?"

"Everything alright?" he asked, raising an eyebrow under his messy mop of brown curls. Morgan nodded slightly, and sighed, putting his pen down.

"Yeah...everything's fine...just a little out of it today," Morgan answered, running his hand down his face.

"...How's Gayle?" Morgan turned his chair away from the file, so he could see Reid and Prentiss better. She turned a little in her chair to look over at him, biting down on her lip.

"Gayle's good...healing. Can't wait to get out of the hospital..."

Morgan looked between his friends before he moved to work on his paperwork, not wanting to say that, after being awake for five weeks, she'd asked he not come see her anymore. It was killing him – he had just begun adjusting to seeing her every day again, and now she turned him away, and he hadn't seen her in three weeks. There had been no reason for it, she simply asked him – in the sweet tone he couldn't deny – that he not bother himself by coming to the hospital anymore. Despite his attempt to tell her it wasn't a bother, and he enjoyed coming to see her, she closed him out, and told him no.

Although Morgan wasn't talking anymore, Reid and Prentiss knew by his actions that he wasn't telling them everything. The two shared a curious glance, but decided not to push it as they turned back to their own work.

The doors behind them opened, and Mel shuffled through them, her hand holding Bash's. She smiled when she saw the team at their desks, and looked down at Bash, handing him the small package before letting go of his hand. With a shy smile, he slowly walked across the carpeting, and around the desks, before stopping beside Morgan and looking up at him. His little fingers reached up, and tugged at the side of his shirt, catching his attention, and bringing a small, curious smile to his face.

"Hey, kiddo. What's up?" he asked, reaching down to rub Bash's head. Grinning shyly, he extended his hand, and placed the box on Morgan's knee. Glancing between the box and Bash, and then up at Reid, he reached down, and opened the small box, smiling when he saw what was inside.

There was a small, framed photograph of Bash, smiling, squinting his beautiful brown eyes. In his hands was a piece of poster board that Bash had decorated and colored, which read _Thank You, Derek Morgan_ in the middle of it.

Setting the framed image down near his computer monitor, and setting the box down on his paperwork, he reached down and scooped Bash off the floor, pulling him into a careful hug.

"Anytime, kid. Anytime." Mel stepped passed them, and put her hand on Reid's shoulder, smiling sweetly.

"He...wanted to thank the men who took down the bad guy," she said softly, holding a second box in her hand for Hotch. Reid, with a smile, patted her hand, and nodded, but didn't say anything. Morgan put Bash's feet back on the floor, and he turned, wrapping his arms around Prentiss as well. She smiled, patting his back and kissing the top of his head, before letting him return to Mel. With a soft laugh, Mel kissed the top of Reid's head, and took Bash's hand, leading him around and up to Hotch's office.

"Bash is a great kid, Reid," Morgan said, watching them walk off. "You two are doing a great job with him." Reid's face turned a light pink as he shifted and glanced over his shoulder.

"It's mostly her...but he is great. He loves everyone..." The team smiled, turning to see Mel and Bash enter Hotch's office. They couldn't see Bash beneath the window, but they saw the smile spread on Hotch's face when Bash moved up to him, and it brought another smile to their own faces to see Hotch happy.

_**Page Break**_

Morgan climbed off his bike, tugging at his jacket as he pocketed his keys and headed into the hospital. After seeing Mel and Bash, and spending the majority of his day trying to concentrate, he decided to break his promise, and go see Gayle.

The nurse smiled at him as he walked in, and nodded.

"She's awake, Mr. Morgan – you can go in," she said, before he could ask, and motioned down the hall. With a smile, he thanked her, and headed down towards Gayle's room. The surprise was evident on his face when he walked into the room, to see her sitting up with her back to him, feet dangling off the side of the bed. Gayle tilted her head, but didn't glance over.

"Can I lay down now?" she asked. Morgan, chuckling, walked in.

"I'd say fine, but I don't think it's me you want to ask." She turned sharply, surprised, and visibly flinched as she clasped her hands over her stomach and whimpered. He jumped over, and turned her straight ahead, frowning.

"Easy, doll, easy."

"Morgan, what are you doing here, I thought you said you wouldn't come see me anymore," she asked, clearly confused, and in pain. He took her hands, and looked up at her.

"Why don't you want me to come see you, Gayle?" She frowned, but lowered her head, and closed her eyes.

"Because I didn't want to bother you any more than I already have," she answered sheepishly. Morgan lifted her chin, and shook his head.

"You are not a bother to me. I told you, Gayle, I love you, and I want to be sure you're getting better." She turned her hands, giving his a squeeze, and sighed.

"Besides...I wanted to surprise you when they let me go next week," she replied, blushing and biting her lip. He looked up at her, smirking.

"Next week?"

"Actually," sounded a voice behind Gayle in the doorway, "she can go home in a couple days. So long as she gets plenty of rest, avoids lifting, running, and high amounts of movement, she can be sleeping in her own bed by the end of the week." The two smiled, the excitement visible in her eyes.

"I could curl up with Clooney in a real bed," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. The doctor smiled, checking Gayle's chart, and looked at Morgan.

"When we decide a day, she can call you and let you know for certain," the doctor added, before nodding again at Gayle, and exiting the room once more.

Morgan leaned back on the sofa, scratching the top of Clooney's head, as he absent-mindedly clicked through the channels. Every so often, he'd lay the remote upon the arm of the couch, and reach to the coffee table, flipping his cell phone open to be sure there was signal, before setting it on the table again, and returning to the remote.

After a few minutes, he sighed, and glanced out the window, raising an eyebrow when the nose of a car pulled up in front of the house. He watched it for a moment, continuing to pet Clooney so he didn't jump up and start barking, before turning his attention back to the television. It wasn't too long before he saw the car drive off in his peripheral vision, and not too long after that, he heard a knocking at the door. Confused, he gently moved Clooney's head onto the couch as the dog snored, and continued to sleep, before heading towards the hall, and opening the door.

Gayle looked up at him, one hand draped over her stomach, the other holding onto the crutch she was leaning against.

"Gayle? What are you doin' here, I thought you were gonna call when you were released..." he said, moving and helping her into the house.

"I was...but Mel was there to visit when he released me, so...she offered to drive me...I thought you were working, and I didn't want to bother you." Morgan shook his head, closing the door carefully, and leading her towards the living room.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you aren't a bother, Gayle?" She sighed, and grimaced as he helped her get comfortable in the recliner.

"Okay...I would rather not push my limits," Gayle clarified, keeping hold of his hand as she leaned her head back, and looked up at him. He smiled, and leaned down, placing a light kiss on her forehead.

"I'll let you have that one," he gently teased. She smiled, and chuckled slightly.

"So...Derek...are we alright?" she asked, softly, running her thumb gently against the back of his hand. Morgan looked at her for a second, before nodding, and smiling again, kissing her forehead once more.

"We definitely will be."


End file.
